Fostering – Page 81

7/23/08

Some days I feel like the stream of dirty dishes is endless and I do nothing all goddamn day long but wash dish after dish after dish, dry them, put them away, and then – bingo! – the sink is full of dishes again. Yesterday was one of those days. Fred harvested the navy beans … Continue reading “7/23/08”

Yesterday was one of those days. Fred harvested the navy beans last weekend, and I looked around online for a canned baked bean recipe, and so yesterday I spent all day making the goddamn things which involved washing the beans, measuring them, figuring out how much water to add, bringing the water (with beans) to a boil, letting them sit for an hour, draining them, adding them back to the pot with fresh water, bringing the water to a boil again, then draining them while reserving the liquid and good god, what a pain in the ass.

I love – LOVE – baked beans, and last year after we harvested the black-eyed peas I said “What kind of beans do you use to make baked beans? Let’s grow some of those!” So earlier this year Fred put navy beans on the grocery list and I bought a bag of dried navy beans, and we planted half of them in the garden.

(I’m sorry, is it not fucking AWESOME that you can buy a bag of beans at the grocery store, plant them, and have them GROW? I’ll never get over that.)

After the harvested beans were – what the fuck is the word I’m looking for? De-podded? There’s a word, I just cannot think of it. I’m ovulating and have Stupid Brain today. YOU’RE WELCOME. – removed from their pods and ready to go, I weighed what we had, and we ended up with four and a half pounds. Four and a half pounds from half a pound planted. Not shabby, I guess, though Fred thinks if he were to pick the pods when they were done growing instead of leaving them to dry on the bush, we might have ended up with more.

So I found this recipe for making your own canned baked beans, and first the issue was that Fred doesn’t like molasses, but we got the suggestion from a canning guru on the forum where he hangs out to substitute honey or brown sugar for the molasses, then once I got to the part where the beans were baking in the oven, I thought about the fact that there’s 3 tablespoons of honey for 4 1/2 pounds of navy beans, and I don’t know much but I’m pretty sure that the baked beans we usually use are way sweeter than 3 tablespoons would make them.

We usually eat Bush’s Baked Beans, for the record.

I spent some time looking around online after my beans had been in the oven for a few hours, and stumbled upon a site where someone claimed that they used the baked bean recipe in the Ball Blue Book, and when they substituted maple syrup for the molasses, it tasted exactly like the Bush’s baked beans. Since my baked beans were already in the oven with their honey sauce, I decided I’d grab a bag of navy beans at the grocery store when I go on Thursday and try that version of baked beans.

Meantime, I had to take the beans out of the oven every hour to make sure they were covered with liquid, and since I was using a flimsy foil pan, every time I took them out of the oven I dumped liquid and beans on the bottom of the oven, which burned. You can imagine how fantastic my house was smelling by then.

With the beans finally done cooking at around 3:00, I got them canned (well, half of them canned. 5 pounds of navy beans makes about 7 quart-size canning jars; my pressure canner only holds 4 jars at a time, so I had to put the uncanned beans in a plastic container to can at a future date (probably later today). When Fred got home, he tasted the beans and declared that they just tasted like cooked beans, not like there was any honey or spices in there at all.

Grrrr.

We talked about it some more, and I think that when I can the second half of the beans, I may stir some BBQ sauce in with them to improve the flavor. I don’t know. Those of you who know about canning and baked beans – hell, even those of you who don’t – what would you recommend I do? Suggestions? I don’t want these beans to go to waste!

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So in and amongst all the bean baking and canning, I put the leftover chicken from Sunday’s lunch on to simmer for a few hours so I could pick the chicken off the bones and make chicken and rice casserole. I was concerned that there wouldn’t be enough chicken meat to make a small batch of the casserole, but there was enough, and after we ate it for dinner last night, we had enough left over for another night.

Tonight, I’m making a stuffed pattypan squash for myself and a stuffed green pepper for Fred. And some oven-fried squash and green tomato.

Ordinarily before I go get groceries on Sunday, we make a list of the meals we want to have throughout the week, but this past Sunday I decided to just figure it out as the week went along, and if I had to run to the store to get something, it’s only a five minute drive to the crappy grocery store. So far, I haven’t had to get a thing – between our garden and our chickens, we’ve pretty much been all set this week.

I love it when that happens.

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Previously
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: I really REALLY want a monkeypod tree for my back yard.
2003: Bonus entry, just for you!
2002: Sit on it.
2001: Packing, packing, packing.
2000: No entry.

7/21/08

I finally posted an entry at OneFatBitchypoo, and at the bottom there’s a link to my surgery before-and-after pictures. No underwear pics, though, ya pervs. I’m plenty pleased with my results. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Almost two years ago when we bought this house, we bought it with the intention of making a life for ourselves that … Continue reading “7/21/08”

I finally posted an entry at OneFatBitchypoo, and at the bottom there’s a link to my surgery before-and-after pictures. No underwear pics, though, ya pervs.

I’m plenty pleased with my results.

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Almost two years ago when we bought this house, we bought it with the intention of making a life for ourselves that was both simpler and a lot more work. We wanted to go from a McMansion house on a tiny bit of land to a smaller house that suited us better on a lot more land. Land we could use to feed ourselves. With that in mind, we planted a garden to provide us with vegetables and we bought chickens to provide us with eggs and eventually meat.

This summer, there’s been a disconnect between what we’d intended and what we’d accomplished – that is, we were getting plenty of vegetables from the garden, and eating them and putting them away for the winter, we were eating lots of eggs (I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of scrambled eggs), and our chicken population was growing by leaps and bounds.

But we weren’t killing and eating chickens the way we’d intended. At first, we didn’t kill any of our first batch of chickens because they were providing us so nicely with eggs and even enough that we could occasionally sell some. Then we got the second batch of chickens, and we still didn’t eat any chickens, because we were waiting for our second batch to start laying.

With every meal, the disconnect grew. We were eating vegetables we’d grown ourselves on plates next to factory-grown chickens who assuredly don’t live the life of Riley the ways ours do.

And then we realized that Flappy, after providing us with the super-freaky double egg, stopped laying altogether. Fred suggested that we use her as our “test” chicken, to see if we had the intestinal fortitude to eat our own chickens. I put him off for a while, but this past week he got insistent. It was apparently time to put our money where our mouths were. Were we going to be able to kill and eat one of our own chickens, or should we just make little beds for them in the house and start treating them like pets?

We talked about doing it early Friday morning, but Fred was afraid that he’d lay awake all night fretting about it, so when he got home Thursday from work, he declared that it was time. We went out and tried to catch Flappy.

Flappy – always a bit of a spaz – dodged and feinted and weaved and hid under the chicken coop. I don’t for one minute believe that she had any idea what was coming, just that these big lumbering idiots were trying to touch her and she DID NOT WANT. After a few tries, I noticed that there was an unused gate leaned up against the chicken coop, and I grabbed it and it helped immeasurably in cornering her.

Fred picked her up, and she was completely calm and docile. We walked through the chicken yard to a spot over by the garden where Fred had put the big tree stump we were going to use. It wasn’t until this point that I started getting butterflies in my stomach. I’d occasionally thought during the day of what we were going to do, but hadn’t dwelt on it. Fred and I are polar opposites when it comes to this sort of thing – he dreads it all the way up until the moment of, and then he’s okay; I’m okay right up until the moment of.

Fred put her down on the stump, her head between two nails. She remained completely calm, and I lifted the hatchet to do the chop, and she blinked up at me. Something about seeing her blink made the voice in my head scream “NO WAY”, but then I thought “I have to”, and a moment later it was done. Then I turned and walked away a little and lost it for a moment.

Fred wrote that I preferred to do the actual chopping rather than hold her body, but in actuality I volunteered to do the chopping because then I wouldn’t feel bad about going inside and letting him deal with the feathers and guts. He never suggested that I do the chop; it was my idea. I never really doubted that I could do it, but I didn’t ENJOY it or look forward to it.

I suspect that it surprises a lot of people that I would be willing to do the killing myself, and that I’ll be doing it again in the future. It surprises me that it surprises you. Though they’re very entertaining to watch, and I like Frick a LOT (Frick is absolutely never going to become dinner; she’s too much like a little puppy, and I get to play favorites if I want to) and I am without a doubt an animal lover, I don’t consider the chickens to be our pets. They’re a food source, and they’ll be spoiled rotten as long as they’re with us, but in the end they’re going to be eaten.

That’s what they’re for.

(Fred wrote about the process in a little more detail, if you’re interested.)

The disconcerting thing to me was how at 4:00 Flappy looked like any ol’ chicken running around, and an hour later she looked like a chicken you’d see in the grocery store. I don’t know what I expected her to look like, but apparently I didn’t expect her to look like that.

Once Fred cleaned her, we put her in a bag in the refrigerator, then on Saturday I made a brine and put her in it. For Sunday lunch, we had roasted chicken, deviled eggs (made with our eggs and pickle relish I canned last year), green beans, oven-fried yellow and pattypan squash, corn on the cob, and sliced tomatoes. Everything grown in our garden or in our chicken yard.

Fred’s plate:

It was fabulous.

Back when we named the pigs (and we never ever call them by name, by the way – they’re just “the big pig” and “the pushy little bastard pig” to us these days), people warned us that naming them would ensure we’d never eat them.

Well.

We named Flappy, and not only did we eat her, we called her by name right up until the moment we ate her – and even while we were eating her, as a matter of fact. So apparently naming animals doesn’t stop US from eating them.

Out of curiosity – anyone still think we won’t eat those pigs?

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“Be vewwy quiet, girlies. It will come closer and I will GET IT! Watch Mama at work!”

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Something hath disturbed the Boogs.

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Previously
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: No entry.
2003: Handwritten.
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: Jemima J.

7/18/08

A couple of weeks ago someone asked: I was going through my bookmarked blogs the other day and ran across the old link for Anita’s site (bald moses). I miss her writing. Do you know what happened to her? Is she writing somewhere else? In my response to the question, I totally lied and said … Continue reading “7/18/08”

A couple of weeks ago someone asked:

I was going through my bookmarked blogs the other day and ran across the old link for Anita’s site (bald moses). I miss her writing. Do you know what happened to her? Is she writing somewhere else?

In my response to the question, I totally lied and said I didn’t know, but I got the okay from her to announce that actually she’s blogging privately, and anyone who wants to know where, email me and I’ll forward your email to her.

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What a garden haul! I have a question about the cucumbers: are those two different varieties? I was wondering why some curve when the rest are straight. Last year all my cukes curved, but I didn’t know why. Still tasted good, just looked odd.

Yeah, they’re two different varieties – Straight Eights, and Pickling Cucumbers, I’m told. I’ll be damned if I can tell any difference between the two – and as a reminder to 2009 Robyn and Fred, YOU DON’T NEED TWO DIFFERENT KINDS OF CUCUMBERS. Pickling cucumbers are all you need. You don’t really LIKE cucumbers all that much, and for the love of god, only plant one panel worth of cucumbers, not TWO.

For the green beans, have you tried the recipe on the Pioneer Woman Cooks blog? I haven’t tried it yet, but it looks so good!

I’ve made it several times – always without the red peppers, because I don’t like bell peppers (or any kind, really) – and though I’ve never actually gotten to the point where the onion carmelizes (no matter what temperature I cook it at or whether I keep the lid on or not or how long I cook it), it’s still DAMN good. I also don’t use bacon grease, because we rarely have bacon and thus have no grease to keep around, so I stick with the butter/ olive oil combo.

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It seems like you have so many veggies and you don’t like doing all the canning and what not. Did you ever think of planting less or selling/giving some away???

Well, no. I’m canning this stuff not for shits and giggles, but so we’ll have it to eat through the year until next Summer, when we can have it fresh from the garden again. You can enjoy the results of something without enjoying the process of getting there. Once we’ve put away enough of each vegetable to get us through the year and have made sure our friends and family have more than enough, we either feed the excess to the pigs and chickens, or yank the plants up.

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Is that thing Zoe is sitting on a cat scratcher?

Yeah, it’s one of these (I did NOT pay $30 for it, though! I don’t think I got it at the pet store, either. Maybe Target or Wal-Mart?). Also, there’s a fuzzy ball hanging down from the part that curves upward, and Zoe likes to get on her back under there and bat at it. She looks like a little kitty mechanic when she does.

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How do you prepare your sweet corn for freezing? The last recipe I tried was a disaster; the directions were a real pain and the end result was hard and unappetizing.

We have this book , the Encyclopedia of Country Living by Carla Emery. In it, she says that she brings a big pot to boil, puts as many ears of corn that will fit in it, then when the water comes back to a boil (it takes a few minutes), she removes the corn and puts it in ice water. That’s what I did this weekend with all our corn – the other books I have say that you should blanch the ears for like 10 minutes – that’s WAY too long in my opinion, and you’ll end up with mushy corn.

Another way to do it, if you have room – we did this last year – is to just freeze the corn in the husk without blanching or anything (though you’ll want to put the ears in bags for freezing). When you’re ready to eat it, thaw it out (still in the husk) and microwave it for three minutes. It tastes great and it’s easier to husk after it’s been microwaved, too. The only reason we didn’t do that this year is because our ears of corn were particularly wormy – every ear of corn Fred checked had a worm in it – and I didn’t want to find a cooked worm in my corn next year!

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Are those hats or just stuffed animals on the cats’ heads? I can’t believe you got one on the Boogs. Is he hetting much?

They’re hats. I got them at Target (I stood in the aisle and giggled for several minutes when I spotted them, imagining how much we’d have torturing the cats), and I’d link to them, but I can’t seem to find them on the Target site.

Mister Boogers didn’t het for long – he’s a kind and benevolent Boogs.

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Have you taken any pictures of your garden? I didn’t realize you had so many different things growing at once. It’d be cool to see it all before it was harvested all pretty on the vines/trees/etc.

I thought I had, but apparently not! Fred’s got pictures here and here (from early May), though.

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I was thinking of doing a fall garden….I’ve never done one. In fact, I haven’t even done a summer garden in probably 15 years. So, do tell, Robyn….what does one plant in a Fall garden? Because I’d like to try it this fall.

This Fall, we’re planning on growing:

Collards
Turnips
Carrots
Broccoli
Cauliflower
Cabbage
Potatoes (we grew red potatoes this summer, and will grow white this Fall)
and possibly Kale

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I need your help, Oh Creative One-I’m planning my first ever trip to Maine in September and have no idea where to start with planning. I want to eat lobster and just generally see some pretty scenery. I love the water and would enjoy some easy hiking. Any suggestions? We’ll be there 4-5 days.

A great area to stay in Maine for day hiking, seeing wildlife, and go whale watching (not to mention shopping) would be either the Portland area (they have a walking/ running path around the Back Bay, boat tours that leave pretty regularly in the summer and early Fall, and plenty of shopping – though for some SERIOUS outlet shopping, I’d recommend either Freeport or Kittery) or Bar Harbor. I’d almost recommend Bar Harbor higher than Portland because it’s near Acadia National Park (ie, lots of day hikes – http://www.acadia.national-park.com/hike.htm ), it’s on the water and if I recall correctly, it’s got ferries to nearby islands, some of which you can spend lots of time exploring on foot. It used to have pretty good shopping – lots of little shops to check out – when I was last there (though it’s been a few years), and it’s a very pretty small-town Maine experience.

The Seabasket has – in my opinion – the best seafood in all of Maine.

That’s what comes to mind right away – those of you who’ve been to Maine, feel free to chime in with suggestions!

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You’re making cookies? For the pigs? Don’t take this the wrong way, because I say this with love, but that’s CRAZY.

and

Homemade cookies for pigs – yep – crazy! Isn’t easier to just buy some day old cheapy cookies?

I am SO not crazy. It takes like 10 minutes to make the cookies, I know what’s going into the them (ie, BETTER FOR THEM), and I don’t have to haul my ass to the store to buy cheap-ass chemical-filled cookies. HMPH.

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Robyn: We get to suggest “Best of”s? I like the Senator Boogerton entry.

One of the absolute best entries EVAH is the one describing how you got your arm stuck behind the bed. PRETTY PLEASE add that one.

This one? Also, I am sad to say, I got my arm stuck behind the bed a second time six months later, and Fred wrote about it.

Anyone who ever wants to suggest an entry for the “Best Of” page, feel free to!

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Is it the camera angle or is Zoe really like half the size of the others?!

It’s the camera angle. Zoe and Kaylee are about the same size – they’re the little ones I call my “peanuts” – Inara’s bigger than both of them, and River is the moose of the bunch.

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Is there something wrong with Mr. Booger’s eye?

If he spends too much time outside, Mister Boogers’ allergies start acting up, and his one eye gets watery and kind of gross looking. If it gets particularly bad, we treat it with chlorpheneramine which usually clears it right up.

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Edgar may be your secret boyfriend but Phil of Cornelia Marie, Rick of Maverick and Sig of Northwestern are mine. >D I got a little captain in me.

Man, stop bogarting all the captains! My favorite captain is Phil but for overall funnest boat I have to say that the Hillstrands seem to have some serious good times.

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what do you do with the dried cherry tomatoes?

I stick ’em in the freezer, and then during the winter I make what we’ve come to call “vegetable medley” with yellow squash, pattypan squash, zucchini, okra, and dehydrated cherry tomatoes. It’s faaaaaaaabulous.

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Kittens, fighting. First on the bed, and then in the tub:

See it here in MPG format.

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Joe Bob, probably planning to pee on my laundry when I’m not looking.

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Previously
2007: Like mud with a soupcon of cat poop stirred in for good measure.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: No entry.
2003: If I were Jennifer Lopez, I would be VERY frightened at the thought of birthing an Affleck baby, if noggins like that run in the family.
2002: I mean, an online journal. Have you ever heard of such a silly thing?
2001: No entry.
2000: Okay, I just really don’t have anything to say today.

7-17-08

The other day, Glenda in CO suggested that I put the entry I wrote a year ago today in my “Best Of” list. Her wish is my command! I’ll admit, I cracked up when I re-read the entry, is that wrong? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Yay! Simon’s cat is back! The others can be seen here, if … Continue reading “7-17-08”

The other day, Glenda in CO suggested that I put the entry I wrote a year ago today in my “Best Of” list.

Her wish is my command! I’ll admit, I cracked up when I re-read the entry, is that wrong?

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Yay! Simon’s cat is back!

The others can be seen here, if you missed them first time around.

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Before 9:00 yesterday morning, I:

1. Had to run out and herd the chickens back into the chicken yard. Half the damn flock got through a gap in the fence (on the church side of their yard) and the adults were smart enough to circle around the garage and try to get back in through the big gate (though why they didn’t just go back through the gap they went through in the first place I haven’t any idea).

The adult chickens were easily coaxed back into the chicken yard when I started tossing pieces of cinnamon/ raisin bagel on the ground (I bought cinnamon/ raisin bagels last week and then remembered I don’t like raisins in stuff, so set them aside for just such an occasion). The younger chickens were fairly easy to coax back in through the gap they’d gone out through, but Charlie. Goddamn, motherfucking Charlie, with her twisted up crippled toes IS AN IDIOT.

She flapped and squawked and ran away from me, and I had to chase her through the undergrowth between the chicken yard and the church property, and I later told Fred that if I get poison ivy from the experience, I’m going to go out there and wring her stupid fucking neck myself.

Goddamn chickens.

One of the featherheads (what we call our three fancy chickens with the poofs of feather on top of their heads) managed to get her head stuck in the fence while I was chasing Charlie, so I had to rescue her from the evil fence, and she repaid me by squirting a long stream of poo at me as she went squawking and flapping away from me.

I repeat: GODDAMN CHICKENS.

2. Coaxed Joe Bob out from under the duct in the back yard that runs between the air conditioning unit and the house. Tuesday, I was in front of the computer when I heard an odd sound coming from the front room. It was annoying enough that I got up and went into the front room to see who was doing what, and I found Stinkerbelle sitting on her cat tree staring at the floor.

“What the fuck?” I said, and then I heard the sound of a distinctly unhappy cat. It was coming from UNDER THE FLOOR, and I said “What the FUCK?”, and opened the front door and stepped out. I heard it again, this time from under the porch, and I got my shoes on and went around the side of the house and then I worried that perhaps one of the kittens had pried off the cover to the air vent in one of the downstairs rooms and was running around in the air ducts in the house, so I ran upstairs and counted kittens. They were all sleeping (and thus easy to count) and accounted for, so I went back outside and looked through the grate covering the vent on the side of the house (side note: there are vents on all four sides of the house, all covered with grates so, one assumes, nothing living can get under there and set up shop. This includes the porch – nothing can get under the porch from the outside, because it’s bricked off.). I could see and hear nothing. I opened the little side door leading under the house so I could look under there, but I was very wary about actually going under the house because (a) I wasn’t completely sure it was a cat I’d heard and (b) If it was a cat and not one of ours, I didn’t want it to claw my face off. Ultimately, I decided to just wait and see if I heard it again.

Meantime, I realized that Joe Bob was nowhere to be found. I called and called and he never came running – he’s been jumping the fence a lot lately despite the fact that he wears a collar because he’s an ASSHOLE – and finally I just went inside and waited to see what would happen. What happened was that I heard the sound of sheet metal moving around from right outside the computer room window, and when I went out to investigate, I saw Joe Bob’s nose sticking out from under the duct between the air conditioning unit and the house. I called him and he meowed pitifully, and then I backed off and he eventually crawled out from underneath and ran inside to eat.

Turns out there’s apparently a way under the house if you get under that duct, and he’d figured it out. I put an empty litter bucket in front of the dug-out spot next to the duct to block his entrance, and made a mental note to block it more permanently at some point. Of course, I didn’t, so yesterday morning when I couldn’t find Joe Bob and a minute later heard the moving sheet metal sound, I knew he’d pushed the bucket out of the way. I went out with some baby food to coax him out, then grabbed a cinder block from between the garage and workshop (What? Where do you keep YOUR cinder blocks?) and put it in front of the dug-out place so he couldn’t get back in there.

A few hours later, I heard the distinct sheet-metal sound from outside the computer room window and I was all “WTF?”, went out, moved the cinder block, and a minute later saw Maxi’s nose as she meowed pitifully at me. She finally squirmed out and ran inside to eat.

This time I did a cat count before I blocked the dug out area by the duct.

Goddamn cats.

3. Vacuumed the house. I love my Dyson and I love seeing all the shit that comes up off my floors when it’s been two days since I last vacuumed. It gives me such a feeling of accomplishment.

4. Made Snickerdoodles for the pigs. Well. They were supposed to be Snickerdoodles (because I don’t like Snickerdoodles and so I won’t eat them when they’re meant for the pigs; chocolate chip cookies wouldn’t make it out to the pigs because they’d be residing IN MAH BELLEH) except I have the very bad habit of not reading recipes all the way through before I start them, so when I found that you’re supposed to chill the cookie dough and then roll each cookie in cinnamon and sugar, I was all “Fuck THAT, I’m not jumping through hoops for the goddamn pigs” and instead I tossed a big handful of raisins in the cookie dough (I think I mentioned I don’t like raisins in stuff, right? Well. I do like raisins in raisin bran, so maybe I should say I don’t like raisins in baked goods.) and scooped the cookie dough onto cookie sheets and baked them, and as far as I know, they came out just fine. I don’t know for sure, though, because I have no desire to eat any of them. The pigs seemed to enjoy them last night at snack time.

Why did I feel the need to make cookies for the pigs? Because we go out every evening after we shut away the chickens in their coops and give the pigs a snack and they’ve come to expect it, and we’re running out of chocolate and I didn’t want to haul my ass to the Russell Stover store. THAT’S WHY. Besides, a happy pig is a tasty pig, haven’t you heard?

5. Put many ears of corn in the refrigerator. Monday, I was sitting at my computer when I heard the sound of a horn in the driveway. I assumed it was the mail lady, so imagine my surprise when I walked out to see a couple of strange men getting out of a truck. I gave them the universal “May I help you?” look, and the driver of the truck came around the end.

“I know you have chickens,” he said, opening the tailgate of his truck. “I saw you sell eggs…”

“Oh, we don’t really have any eggs,” I said, assuming he wanted to buy some.

“No, no, I’m not here for that,” he said, and he pulled a big bag out of the back of his truck. It was filled to the brim with corn on the cob. “We have this extra corn and it’s too tough for us to eat, so I thought your chickens might like it.”

Instantly, I was interested. Our chickens LOVE corn. “Oh, they’d love it!” I said. “How much?” I was racking my brain trying to figure out how much I was willing to spend on a big bag of corn. I settled on a babillion dollars and not one cent more.

He looked off to the side and considered. “Well,” he said. “Um, free?”

My jaw dropped. “REALLY?” I squealed. He handed over the bag. I thanked him several times, he shrugged it off, and they left. I immediately called Fred to tell him about it, and he told me I should have asked where he lived, and told him we’d drop off some eggs later in the week. I hadn’t even thought of that, and I described the man and told Fred I was going to keep my eyes open when I drove to Closeville later and would let him know if I saw the guy’s truck anywhere.

And a couple of hours later, he showed up again with an equally big bag of corn. He seemed so embarrassed by my profuse thanks that I didn’t have the courage to ask where he lived. He handed me the bag, said “Well, it would have just been gone to waste, I’m glad you could use it!” and motored on out of there.

Living in the country is freakin’ AWESOME.

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Kara tries to stop the nursing attempt by (gently) rabbit-kicking Kaylee in the head. Kaylee will not be deterred.

Kara’s all “I give up. Nurse if you want to, brat. GOOD LUCK getting anything, though!”

Kara says “Keep nursing, I’ll just make sure you’re clean” and then suddenly Inara’s like “Hey!”

Inara’s all “What’s going on over HERE?”

Inara’s like “I’ll take some of that action!”

Kara says “Oh HELL no.” Kaylee still tries to nurse, like Kara’s a cow and Kaylee’s her calf. And over by the pillows, Zoe’s all “What’s going on over THERE?”

Kara’s all “I’m OUT of here!”

“Get away from me, you soul-sucking monsters.”

“Wha happen?”

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Miz Poo, running for some love.

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Previously
2007: My day in motherfucking pictures.
2006: No motherfucking entry.
2005: No motherfucking entry.
2004: No motherfucking entry.
2003: The motherfucking shit fit continued unabated.
2002: I guess I’d better keep these motherfucking babies to myself.
2001: Ever found yourself being a total unreasonable motherfucking bitch for no good reason, and even though you know there’s no reason for the bitchiness, you can’t halt it, can’t stop it, just have to sit back and let it happen?
2000: ‘Cause that’s just the kinda lazy motherfucker I am.

7/16/08

The Catpranos. Starring: Sugar “Big Boss Sweet Ass” J. Buttocks Stanley “Booger Eyes” J. Boogerton Thomas “Black Pussy” J. Cullen and Joseph “Smilin’ Joe” J. Robert When you woke up this morning, When you woke up this morning, When you woke up this morning, You got yourself a gun…… “Smilin’ Joe.” “Boss! What brings you … Continue reading “7/16/08”

The Catpranos.

Starring:

Sugar “Big Boss Sweet Ass” J. Buttocks
Stanley “Booger Eyes” J. Boogerton
Thomas “Black Pussy” J. Cullen
and
Joseph “Smilin’ Joe” J. Robert

When you woke up this morning,
When you woke up this morning,
When you woke up this morning,
You got yourself a gun……

“Smilin’ Joe.”
“Boss! What brings you around these parts?”

“That you even have the temerity to ask, Smilin’ Joe. That gets me so upset I can’t even look at you. It ANGERS me, Joe.”
“Boss?”

“You think word doesn’t get AROUND? You think I don’t KNOW what you’ve been doing?”
“Uh…”

“You think it’s a GOOD sign that I bring Black Pussy and Booger Eyes with me? You think this is a GOOD TIME CHAT? Are we chatting it up here, Joe? You want me to fetch you a cup of catnip? Can I be of SERVICE to you, you fucking assface?”
“Sure! Uh, I mean…”

“You think I don’t look at your stupid smilin’ face and want to smack it clear to the very back of the back forty? You think Black Pussy and Booger Eyes are back there looking around for their HEALTH? You messed up, Smilin’ Joe. You messed up BIG.”
“I…”

“It just makes me so angry, Joe. That you’d act like this when I thought we were FAMILY. After all I’ve done for you, that you’d do this, it breaks my heart and makes me want to break your face. You get me?”
“Um…”

“You see this scar on my arm? You think I got this scar from rolling over and taking it from losers like you? You think just ’cause I got these pink and purple nails I’m some BITCH you can FUCK and then just walk away? I EARNED this scar, these nails. I earned them with HARD work and loyalty and NOT sitting around grinning like a fucking lunatic.”

“You think you move in a vacuum? You think you do shit and people don’t come running to tell me? You think I have NO power in this yard?”
“Boss, I….”
“I can’t even look at you, Joe. You make me sick.”

“LOOK AT ME WHEN I’M REFUSING TO LOOK AT YOU, YOU GRINNING MORONIC MOTHERFUCKER!”

“Are you HEARING me, Joe? You understand what I’m saying to you?”
“Not so much, Boss…”
“You think you can get away with the middle-of-the-night caterwauling, the stalking Black Pussy’s girl – SHE BELONGS TO HIM, JOE – the spraying the bed where I like to lay my weary head, the disappearing and not letting the Big Lady know where you are? You think it’s okay to make her worry and piss her off? You think you can do these things and not pay the price? Booger Eyes, you take care of this. I can’t even be near this douchebag any more.”

“Boogsie, what’d I do?”
“You pissed him OFF, Joe. Did you not understand that very basic fact of life? You pissed him off, and if I were you, I’d pack my collar and cat bed and find a friendlier place to be.”

“Booger Eyes, you ever think of taking care of Big Boss Sweet Ass and taking over yourself? I’m just wondering.”
“That’s not even funny, Joe. Don’t joke about that sort of thing. You scram before I get back or I’m going to have to make you gone. I’m feeling generous today, Joe, so I’m going to give you half an hour. You’re a blithering idiot, but you need to do what’s smart for once.”
“I hear you, Boogie. I appreciate that.”

Watching Booger Eyes and Black Pussy make themselves scarce, Smilin’ Joe wonders just how stu-

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So sleepy.

Zoe, making sure River is cleaning.

Sisterly love.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Previously
2007: I can’t speak for Fred, but I know I was thinking “Jesusgodalmighty, I hope that scar on his head doesn’t pop out and his brain doesn’t come sproinging at me, because then I’d have to bat it like a volleyball and I never was very good at volleyball.”
2006: No entry.
2005: Off to Maine!
2004: No entry.
2003: “That is a child who does not fear her parents nearly enough.”
2002: It’s a Poo! Inna box! A Poo inna box! What more could you possibly hope for?
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.

7-15-08

This weekend, I noticed when I was standing in the chicken yard feeding them whatever the hell I was feeding them (they are SO spoiled rotten that now when I toss some cherry tomatoes in the chicken yard they look at me and are all “Whatevs. You got anything more… grainy? Some cornmeal, perhaps?”), it … Continue reading “7-15-08”

Sunday, Fred said “Can you come out here?”, and when I obediently walked onto the side stoop, he said “Does it smell like something dead out here?” I sniffed and sniffed and sniffed some more, but I smelled nothing at all. Which is unusual, since I can smell the smallest amount of cat pee from three rooms away and he doesn’t notice it if he’s sitting in a big puddle of it.

All day long he kept insisting that it smelled like death outside, and I would sniff and shrug ’cause I didn’t smell a damn thing.

Finally, Sunday afternoon while I was making dinner, he said “There is SOMETHING dead out there, and I’m going to find out what the hell it is!” He went out and I returned to making dinner hoping it wasn’t a person, a cat, or one of our chickens.

A few minutes later he returned to report that it was a dead armadillo, but that – luckily, I suppose – it was actually on church property.

Every year for as long as I can remember, we’ve passed at least one dead armadillo by the side of the road (in various places) and every time we’ve seen one, Fred has said “Huh. An armadillo. Weird. They don’t usually come this far north!”

A few months ago we started noticing spots out under the tree near the pig yard where something had clearly been digging. I suggested that maybe it was an armadillo, and Fred said it could be, but “They don’t usually come this far north.”

I think someone better tell the armadillos they don’t come this far north, ’cause they don’t seem to be aware of the rules.

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So the corn, as you may have seen in yesterday’s entry, was harvested over the weekend. We planted, I think, twice as much corn this year as last, but ended up with about the same amount of corn. I don’t know why we didn’t get more – Fred thinks he might have planted them too close together. Last year, we froze a bunch of ears of corn still in the husk and when we ate them this spring, they were fabulous. I wanted to do the same with most of the corn this year, but when Fred checked a couple of ears, he found bugs or worms in every one of them. Since I prefer not to freeze ears of corn in the husk if there are bugs in there (just call me picky), he husked all the corn.

We thought at first that just the white corn he’d planted – Silver Queen – was going to be ready to be harvested and the rest would take a few more weeks, but at the end of the day Saturday, after I’d blanched and frozen all the Silver Queen, he brought in a couple of ears of the other kind he’d planted – Golden Queen – and announced that it was ready, too.

“Can we wait until tomorrow to pick it, please?” I begged. I’d been pickling and chopping and blanching and freezing all day long and hadn’t had time to even vacuum the house, which desperately needed to be done.

So he kindly waited until Sunday to harvest the Golden Queen (a few test ears showed plenty of bugs and worms in this corn as well), and after I vacuumed the house and got groceries, I started using the vegetable brush on the corn to get as much of the silk off it as I could. About a third of the way through desilking the ears piled in the sink, I asked Fred if he’d do the rest of the ears while I ran to the recycling center and to Big Lots. He agreed (but gave me a dirty look. Puh-lease.), and I left for my errands.

I had to stop by Big Lots, because for the last couple of years – ever since I vacationed in Gatlinburg at Christmas time with my sister, nephew, and parents – I’ve been using SunSilk De-Frizz 24/7 Creme on my hair after my shower, and of course it’s either no longer made or just no longer carried in my area.

OF COURSE.

(Though a quick Google search indicates that it might be available at Walgreens, so I’ll be needing to check there, I s’pose.)

The only place I’ve seen it in recent months is at Big Lots, so I thought I’d stop by and get as many bottles as I could.

But of course Big Lots didn’t have any, so I bought a couple of bottles of other stuff to try, and now I’m carefully using as little of the De-Frizz creme as possible every morning, to make it last as long as possible.

Anyway.

So I got back to the house to find that Fred had finished the ears of corn, so I began the corn-blanching cycle, followed up by the laying-corn-everywhere cycle (I use a FoodSaver when I freeze food, and so try to get everything as dry as I can before I start using the machine to suck air out of the bags before it seals them – it can handle moist foods, but too-wet foods mess up the process) and then made yellow squash pickles and so on.

I was well into the yellow squash pickles-making cycle when I realized that the recipe (which Fred got from his stepmother last year) said that I should add vinegar to the other ingredients, but didn’t specify how much vinegar or whether it was white or apple cider vinegar. A call to Fred’s stepmother didn’t help, because she looked at her recipe to find that her mother hadn’t written that information down, either, but as soon as he hung up the phone, I found the exact same recipe online.

We are seriously full up on yellow squash until next year (to prepare it for use over the fall and winter, I just dice it and freeze it raw. A lot of people refuse to preserve yellow squash, saying that it gets gross and bland, but we ate it all fall, winter, and spring, and it was just fine made in a saute with onion and dehydrated cherry tomatoes), so Fred pulled up the yellow squash plants that aren’t producing as much (I think he pulled up like three plants out of 53. YES HE PLANTED 53!). From here on out, we’ll eat squash fresh out of the garden several times a week, slice the larger yellow squash in half for the chickens (they really like the seeds, and when I slice the squash in half they end up eating everything but the skin), and if there’s anything left over we’ll feed it to the pigs.

We still haven’t gotten nearly enough zucchini for my taste, though, so I’ll keep freezing those for future use as they come in.

Next, the tomatoes should start coming in with a vengeance, and soon after that I think the okra are due to start coming in. Also, I think Fred’s going to pull the onions and potatoes this weekend.

Mid-July, and we’re already talking about what we want to plant in the Fall garden!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Rowr. Rowr, I say.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tommy adores hiding in the whatever-it-is growing in this corner of the yard. Every few days I think he’s escaped the back yard and run around looking for him, only to find him sitting here watching me. Brat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Previously
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: “Bessie,” he said. “That is CAT POOP, not kitty treats!”
2004: No entry.
2003: No entry.
2002: Our kitties, spoiled? Nah.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.

7-14-08

This weekend, in between all of this: (Dehydrating cherry tomatoes) (Yellow squash pickles; never had ’em before, hope they’re good!) (ALL of the corn came in this weekend. I spent a lot of time blanching, bagging, and freezing) (The peaches from our harvest, when sliced and bagged, filled up a one-gallon bag. Pretty good for … Continue reading “7-14-08”

This weekend, in between all of this:

(Dehydrating cherry tomatoes)

(Yellow squash pickles; never had ’em before, hope they’re good!)

(ALL of the corn came in this weekend. I spent a lot of time blanching, bagging, and freezing)

(The peaches from our harvest, when sliced and bagged, filled up a one-gallon bag. Pretty good for a tree Fred just planted last year!)

Mayfly.

Spotted Cucumber Beetle.

There was plenty of this:

(Heart-shaped tomato)

(The Deadliest Catch. Edgar is my secret boyfriend.)

(Zoe makes herself at home in the front room.)

All in all, a very good weekend.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Previously
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: It doesn’t have that ring of finality to it, that “I’m ending this goddamn email, see?” air.
2004: Why the fucking hell shouldn’t men cheat on beautiful women?
2003: Could I be more boring, yammering on about my email address?
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: I guess I should clean under the couch a little more often, huh?

7-11-08

Are you and Nance going to do another podcast for us? I loved the last one! No podcast from us this time around, you probably already realized. Nance didn’t bring her fancy recording equipment with her this time. Maybe next time! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Since you like to make anything and everything, I thought you might … Continue reading “7-11-08”

Are you and Nance going to do another podcast for us? I loved the last one!

No podcast from us this time around, you probably already realized. Nance didn’t bring her fancy recording equipment with her this time. Maybe next time!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Since you like to make anything and everything, I thought you might like to try Homemade Oreos. There are some rather interesting recipes on her blog.

::Drooooooooool::

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So tell me a little bit about pattypan squash… I’d never even heard about it until I read about it here and it looks very interesting. Is it super sweet like butternut squash or is it less sweet like yellow squash? Do you peel it? How do you cook it? I’m trying to increase my veggie repertoire!

I hate the fucking SHIT out of pattypan squash. It’s a pain in the ass to cut, it doesn’t taste any better than yellow squash, and Fred seems to think it’s the most amazing vegetable this side of okra. I HATE IT. To me, it tastes very much like yellow squash, though it’s firmer and less watery than yellow squash tends to be. We eat it sliced up and oven-fried or diced and sauteed with yellow squash, eggplant, and/ or zucchini (whatever’s on hand) – which we call “vegetable medley”. I’ve seen recipes indicating that you can hollow out the pattypan squash, prepare the innards in some way and then use the shell of the pattypan as the serving bowl. I’ve never done that, though.

(I might be hating the pattypan a little more than usual, given that I spent three hours dicing it up for the freezer so we can eat vegetable medley all damn winter long. Stupid pattypan.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My first thought on seeing you taking a picture of the cake pan on the floor was: “How is it possible there are no cats getting frosting on their noses?” My beagle would have her face right in that cake if I tried a stunt like that. The risks you take for your readers! I’m so glad Nance was there to document the situation.

If I’d left the cake on the floor any longer than I did, I can guarantee that at least Miz Poo would have come moseying on over for a sniff-see. As it was, though, the cats are usually pretty uninterested when I’m in the kitchen. They never get any extra treats from me (I’m too fixated on getting whatever I’m working on made so I can get the hell out of the kitchen), so why bother hanging around? I think they were probably scattered all over the house, sound asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You have peach trees??? If so, I am so jealous. Peaches won’t grow where I live – it’s too damn cold. As a child, I envisioned moving to the south and living on a peach farm/plantation. Heh.

We do! Scroll down a bit in this entry, and you can see them from earlier this year. They were tiny little peaches, but surprisingly flavorful. Considering the fact that Fred just planted the peach tree last year, I think the fact that he got a nice-sized bowl of peaches is pretty awesome.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Poor Sugarbutt. How much longer till he gets it taken off?

We’ve started taking Sugarbutt’s collar off around dinnertime and keeping it off ’til bedtime. The first night Fred did that, Sugarbutt jumped into the air and then hauled off like his butt was on fire. I’m hoping maybe after his vet appointment on Monday, we’ll be able to keep it off him. I think it’ll all depend on how quickly his toes heal.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Robyn, you look great! I’m jealous of your garden. I was wondering if you’ve read Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver. She and her family moved to a farm in southwestern VA and spent a year eating only food that they grew or raised or that was grown or raised within 100 miles of their home. It’s really got me thinking about where the stuff we buy in the grocery store comes from, and looking for local farmer’s markets. Love the kittens, I have five adult cats and miss the little ones.

Actually, I have – I read it about this time last year, and enjoyed it a lot. Which reminds me – when the tomatoes start coming in good, I want to give the Tomato Sauce recipe a try!

It was a very good book, I recommend it to anyone who hasn’t read it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Did you and Nance colour coordinate your outfits in the great cake taking photograph? (beige pants, red tops!)

We didn’t color coordinate – Nance is just such a damn copycat that she had to copy me.

(I kid, of course – actually, I was wearing gray pants, not beige.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

How do you hang your laundry outside without it totally getting covered in pollen? I don’t dare try that with all the allergies in my house.

Good question – I’ve never had a problem with it. Either I just don’t notice it – doubtful, since Fred suffers from allergies – or we don’t get a lot of pollen around here (at least not this time of year), or my clothesline is located in some weird pollen-free vortex.

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Have you figured out which one of the cats has been doing the recent peeing (on the guest bed, in the kitty bed)? There are so many potential suspects! Are you ever tempted to set up a video camera to catch the culprit? Also, if one of them pees on a bed, how do you prevent the mattress from taking on that hideous cat pee smell? Do you have special Cat Lady techniques that you are willing to share with the world?

I strongly suspect that either Joe Bob or Mister Boogers is the culprit when it comes to the peeing in the guest bedroom. Mister Boogers has been known to pee on beds to register his displeasure with whatever it is that’s going on at the moment and Joe Bob, well, I just think he’s a troublemaker because he’s always smiling.

But then, I know for sure that Maxi likes to spray (did you know that female cats can spray to mark their territory? I never would have believed it, except the bitch did it RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME) and I suspect that Newt pees on things I leave on top of the washer (imagine my rage when I walk by the washer and find that my cleaning rags have been peed upon. I CANNOT HAVE ONE GODDAMN NICE THING IN THIS HOUSE.), so what I’m saying here is “Fuck if I know.”

We were having an issue for a while with someone occasionally peeing on Fred’s bed. Now, we both think that that was due to the fact that years ago, when suffering from the effects of diabetes, Tubby peed on the bed a few times, and I suspect the cats can still smell the remnants from that. I myself would insist on a new mattress, but Fred won’t hear of it because he doesn’t want to spend the money (and that mattress was damn expensive). Anyway, I very much wanted to set up a hidden camera to see who the hell was doing it, but instead Fred installed a latch on his door so now the cats can’t get in there at all.

All the beds in the house currently sport waterproof mattress pads, but in addition to that, I can’t recommend Stink-Free strongly enough. It removes the smell immediately and – as far as I can tell – the smell doesn’t come back at all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I love the idea of using a bucket for a litter box – y’all are genius! What’s the diameter of the bottom of the bucket? What are the dimensions of the hole and what did Fred use to cut the hole? I think we need an instructible!

(Those of you who missed the initial entry about the Lowe’s bucket/ litter box, see a picture and read about it here.)

According to the label on the bucket, it is a “Rough & Rugged Extra Large Heavy Duty Tub (with Rope Handles)”, made by United Solutions. It’s 22 1/8″ in diameter, and 16″ high. The hole is 8 inches by 9 inches (I measured the hole in the old covered litter box and made an outline on the tub where I wanted the hole to go). According to Fred, he used his jigsaw to cut the hole in the bucket. It’s a nice, clean cut, isn’t it?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Have you seen Wipeout on ABC? We watched last night and I am ashamed to admit we laughed our asses off. Good mindless summer TV with people getting the you know what knocked out of them. And then there are the Big Balls…

We haven’t watched it yet – but it’s certainly up Fred’s alley, so I’m sure we’ll be checking it out sooner or later!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I don’t know how you do it. This morning I was digging in my closet for work clothes and found that the shirt I wanted had fallen off the hanger and was on the floor. I picked it up and got a whiff and realized Darth Vadar had peed on it. I’m so sick of the smell of cat urine. I wanted to just strangle him. He’s lucky he wasn’t in the room.

I tell you what, I get SO PISSED when I find something that’s been peed on. And what’s worse is that it’s ALWAYS a freakin’ surprise. Fred can tell you, I get mighty irate about it, too. I am completely paranoid that my house smells like cat pee, and if there’s any cat pee anywhere in the vicinity, I can smell it, and I can usually locate it eventually, too. I despair of the day when my sense of smell starts to go – I’ll have to hire someone with young nostrils to come over and sniff around the house to make sure it doesn’t reek of cat pee.

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Lack of adoptive homes for kitties must be just another sign of Mr. Bush’s economic disaster we are facing. Gasoline, food,in fact EVERYTHING costing more and more. Your lovely garden will certainly be a help to you and Fred as prices keep rising.

That’s Fred’s contention, too, that the economy is responsible for the dropoff of adoptions. ::sigh::

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I think I need to try this. The tiny kitty I found almost a month ago has decided that the guest room bed is the place to do her business. I covered it with a plastic sheet, but still ewwww. She uses the litter box occasionally, but prefers the bed. I have made her smell it, then put her in the litter box, trying to teach her, and that doesn’t seem to work. Anybody have any great ideas for me? Other than this, she’s the perfect loving kitty.

I know people left suggestions in the comments (I love you guys!), and the only thing I can add is to maybe try adding Kitten Attract to the litter box. It’s supposed to encourage kittens to use the litter box (and not the bed!); I don’t know that it works, but it might be worth a try!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Robyn, I was wondering how it works with the kitties being stuck at the pet store before adoption. I foster dogs for a local rescue and we have adoptions on Saturday and sometimes Sunday for about 3-4 hours. We take the dog and stay there with them to discuss the pup with potential adopters. We actually get a say in whether the potential adopters can get the dog or not. Granted, they go through a ridiculous adoption screening, but sometimes the foster can just feel whether it will be a good fit. There are times when a potential adopter just screams to me that they shouldn’t take the dog. It is important to get a good fit. Just wondering if you get any input is all.

Until now, I’ve always taken the kittens (or cats) to the pet store and left them in a cage. The shelter’s adoption counselors have developed a keen nose for people who shouldn’t be allowed to adopt, so I’ve never actually come in contact with potential adopters before now. Now that they can come to the house to spend time with the kittens (after a rigorous pre-adoption screening), the shelter manager has been clear that if any alarm bells go off when foster parents are meeting with potential adopters, we should absolutely let them know.

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Can you tell us more about that collar that Sugarbutt has on? I’ve never seen anything like it! I’m betting we probably don’t even get them in Australia though…

It’s called the No-Bite Collar, and basically what it does is make it impossible for Sugarbutt to reach his toes and lick between them, which would stop them from healing. It’s a pretty neat thing, and according to the vet, works far better than cones do, with cats. Considering that the one time we tried putting a cone on Sugarbutt, he freaked right out so badly that we had to take it off him, I’d say the collar is working pretty well!

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Robyn, this has nothing to do with anything, really, but I notice that Sugarbutt’s got SoftPaws on. I was just wondering if you could explain how you get these on the claws – is this an adventure that you take all alone, or do you have four hands to get the SoftPaws glued on? Do you throw towels over the cats to get them to not freak out and claw at you to get away?

Fred always helps me when we put SoftPaws on Tommy and Sugarbutt – I’m sure that one person could somehow get them on a cat without help, but I don’t know how on earth that would happen, unless it involved wrapping them in a towel. Tommy and Sugarbutt are both pretty calm about having the SoftPaws glued on – they don’t like it, but they’ll tolerate it.

Also, I was hoping you’d be able to offer a little advice. I’ve recently attempted and mostly succeeded at training my little Mia to scratch her climbing tower rather than the sofa, so I know I can sort of train her to do some things. We live pretty high up in an apartment high rise, and we have a large balcony with a railing which Mia, the little minx, has taken to jumping on. This not only gives us a heart attack, but also, if she jumps down off the railing on the other side there’s a ledge that goes all the way around the building, but it is certainly not big enough that I’m going to go walking out there after her. She has jumped on the railing, she’s jumped down on the other side, and she’s walked around a little bit on the ledge (it’s about 12 inches wide in most places so she’s not likely to fall off because of bad balance, but still). Each time, well, let’s just say I am displeased. Do you have any advice on how to train her to NOT jump on the railing? It seems my yelling her name and shaking treats to entice her inside when she does jump up there doesn’t seem to dissuade her from ever doing it again. Short of being able to teach her to cut it out, I’m going to have to keep the balcony door closed, which in this weather is not the most ideal solution.

I feel sure that there must be something you can put around the railing to stop her from jumping up there, but a cursory search on Google gives me nothin’. I know my readers will have a solution, because they ROCK. Readers?

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Hi Robyn – love the litter box idea! Any suggestions as to what to do about a darling kitty girl that always gets all four feet in the litter box to pee and then hangs her ass right over the edge so pee goes on the mat/paper towel rather than in the box? She gets all the way in the middle to poo, no problem, but not to pee (and the box is clean, so that isn’t an issue). Once in awhile the pee goes down the outside of the box, but most hits the floor just outside. Sigh. Anyone?

The only suggestion that comes to mind is giving her a litter box that’s high enough that she can’t hang her butt over the side. The top entry litter box we have (though I don’t use the lid) is definitely high enough that she won’t be able to pee over the front, but as with all cats, it’s going to depend on whether she likes the litter box or not. Also, if she’s an older cat, it might be difficult for her to jump into it. Other than that – maybe a bigger litter box? Though the fact that she has no problems getting her poo in the box indicates that it’s either laziness or a MESSAGE on her part.

Also:

My elder statesman did the same thing due to lack of mobility and what I did was get some puppy housetraining pads (I get them at target) and place them under the litter box. You need to leave a few inches of the pad showing outside of the edge of the box to catch the errant pee. Works pretty well. I don’t know what to do about getting her to pee inside the box. Maybe try a bigger box?

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Speaking of RR, as she’s using the garbage bowl on 30 Minute Meals, it always drives me nuts that she is putting recyclables in with the other garbage. To me, it would be more work to separate everything after I’m finished.

I have to say, I’ve never actually seen Rachel Ray’s show, so the whole “garbage bowl” thing is just what I’ve read and heard from other people. I don’t actually use a garbage bowl, but if I did – I guarantee you, it would NOT cost no damn FIFTEEN DOLLARS.

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I’m surprised you don’t have a compost pile – but then your pigs eat all your composting fodder, I suppose. I do have a separate bowl for my kitchen scraps, but it’s just an old gallon ice cream bucket which gets emptied into our compost pile.

We do have a compost heap. I have a canister sitting by the sink in which I put all my compostable (non-meat) food. The damn pigs won’t eat the ends of squash or the ends of green beans or onion skins, so that stuff goes on the compost heap. Anything that’s not compostable and goes in the garbage, I usually toss in the garbage as I’m cooking – I guess it doesn’t bother me to take the extra steps to toss stuff in the garbage instead of in a garbage bowl!

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Repeat after me: “Righty Tighty, Lefty Loosey.” Turn the lid to the left to open the jar! I know it’s SILLY but it works. Also, if you take the blunt end of a can opener and just gently lift the bottom edge of the lid until that little piff of air comes out, the jar will open right up.

I do know “righty tighty, lefty loosey”, I swear! I just never think of it when I’m opening jars, apparently. 🙂

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Fred? The man who likes cheese, but not on his salad? Who likes cheese, but not on his burger? He wants TWO LAYERS of cheese on his squash? Now we know where Fred LIKES his cheese…or haven’t you told him that parmesan is cheese?

Not only does he LIKE cheese on his squash, the whole recipe was his idea! I’ve been told, recently, that he guesses it’s just American cheese he doesn’t like on his burger. Tonight we’re having hamburgers for dinner, and he asked me to get pepperjack cheese. To eat on his burger. I guess you CAN teach an old dog new tricks!

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you still feeding that spoiled kitten baby food? =)

That bratty little kitten AND her Momma AND her brother AND her sister (but not Kaylee) all share a jar of chicken baby food in the morning and another at night. You KNOW I spoil the hell out of my fosters, and I expect that they’ll be eating baby food as long as they’re in residence!

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As for the dental tech, and her comment about cats; she sounds more like someone who doesn’t care for cats OR dogs. Some people just don’t like or have pets, and never seem to have anything good to say about any species.

No, she’s definitely a dog person – she has a couple of dogs. She told me that in the evening when she sits down, her dogs get right up on her, and cats aren’t like that, they’re more independent. Considering that Fred cannot sit down and watch TV without Mister Boogers, Maxi, Tommy, and Spanky all up in his shit, I’m thinking she just hasn’t met the right cat!

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Fred called me from work yesterday. “It’s supposed to get really stormy this afternoon,” he said. “You need to go out and pick the squash before that happens.” It had been a couple of days since the squash got picked, and the only reason he hadn’t done it on Wednesday is because it was raining when he got home from work.

I went out to the garden and picked yellow and pattypan squash and zucchini and cucumbers.

I’ll be making pickles this weekend.

Some of the zucchini was really freakin’ big!

When Fred got home, it was not stormy at ALL. It was bright and sunny. And since he hadn’t picked green beans in about a week, he went out to do so. He came in with a big basket of green beans.

“Where can I put these?” he asked. “I’m not even a third of the way down the row!” I pointed to the utility sink in the laundry room. He picked and he picked, and he picked some more.

I’ll be snapping the hell out of green beans today. And maybe tomorrow. And canning green beans. And freezing them. And then I will kill Fred in his sleep.

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Kara and the babies are doing well. Kaylee, kind of standoffish until now, has warmed up to me a little. She’s always had the quickest purr – you barely touch her, and off she goes – but she hasn’t wanted to be petted. Until now – now she doesn’t mind a little petting. Until she’s done being petted, and then you better back off.

I adore this picture, because it looks like Zoe is airborne, that the purple thing is the rug and she’s in a mid-air Matrix move. They’re actually in the tub, fighting, though. They love to fight in the tub, for some reason. Also, they love to poke holes in my shower curtains. Brats.

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Joe Bob keeps an eye on the birds.

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Previously
2007: “It tastes awful… chickeny,” he said.
2006: I thought I was going to die from the sheer annoyance factor.
2005: But really, is there anything less threatening than giving someone the FINGER?
2004: No entry.
2003: Ever have one of those days, or is it just me?
2002: He can’t close a drawer all the way to save his life.
2001: What next, I ask you?
2000: Surely y’all know me better by now?

7/10/08

The best thing I’ve purchased recently: My Kuhn Rikon Gripper Jar Opener. I saw it in a Kuhn Rikon catalog, decided it couldn’t hurt to give it a try (though if I’d realized it came in red, I would have gotten that instead of white!), and it is SO handy. Because I’ve apparently gotten old … Continue reading “7/10/08”

The best thing I’ve purchased recently:

My Kuhn Rikon Gripper Jar Opener. I saw it in a Kuhn Rikon catalog, decided it couldn’t hurt to give it a try (though if I’d realized it came in red, I would have gotten that instead of white!), and it is SO handy. Because I’ve apparently gotten old and frail since I turned 40, I’ve been having one hell of a time opening the damn baby food jars. With the Gripper, I turn the wheel to make the gripper thingies grip the jar lid, and with a simple turn, that damn thing is open. No muss, no fuss! And best of all, it adjusts to lid sizes from 1″ – 3.5″, so if I could have figured out in which direction to open the lid on the spaghetti sauce jar last night, I would have been able to open that, too.

Awesome, and highly recommended.

(And recommended to ME: exercises to strengthen my grip. I’m too young to be old and frail!)

I bought mine online, but I’m fairly certain I saw it at Bed, Bath & Beyond the other day, too.

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The thing I will never ever ever EVER buy (and you better not, either!):

So, you’re making dinner. And you’ve got a lot of dinner garbage. It’s a pain in the ass to keep running to the garbage can to toss the garbage in, right? But if you leave the garbage laying on the counter, it makes a mess, right?

Rachael Ray thinks you should spend FIFTEEN GODDAMN DOLLARS on a BOWL to leave by your sink, to toss your garbage in, so you can toss the garbage all at once.

Fifteen dollars. For a BOWL. The sole use of which is to toss garbage in. Really – are you fucking KIDDING ME? What a rip off. Hey, here’s a little-known secret Rachael Ray (or the cheeseballs in charge of her “empire”) doesn’t want you to know: open your cupboard. See that bowl right there? That bowl just sitting there doing nothing? That you won’t need in the preparation of dinner?

Guess what?

You can use that bowl to put your kitchen garbage in!

GASP!

And then you can wash it out and use it for something else!

GASP!

What a revolutionary idea!

Buy the goddamn bowl if you think it’s pretty and you want to put your popcorn in it or eat cereal out of it, I don’t care. It’s YOUR money, not mine. But I will tell you this: if you buy a goddamn FIFTEEN DOLLAR BOWL to PUT YOUR KITCHEN GARBAGE IN because RACHAEL RAY SAYS, I will disown you.

DISOWNED.

So watch your step, is all I’m saying. Don’t be suckered in by the bullshit.

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Excellent side dish we had last night with dinner:

Take yellow squash, slice it however you like (I do it kind of on a diagonal, about half an inch thick), put it on a (already sprayed with Pam) cookie sheet. Sprinkle with salt and pepper and very lightly with parmesan. Cook it for 27 minutes at 350º. Remove from oven.

Using a 8×8 baking dish, put a layer of the squash on the bottom. Put a VERY thin layer of spaghetti sauce on top of the squash, sprinkle with parmesan if you like (or your husband is a parmesan-addicted freak), put a second layer of squash, thin layer of spaghetti sauce, parmesan, last layer of squash, last thin layer of spaghetti sauce, last sprinkle of parmesan. Sprinkle a little mozzarella on top, put it back in the oven until the cheese is melted and bubbly (5 – 10 minutes; keep an eye on it). SO GOOD.

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I had my six-month dental cleaning yesterday. It turns out that a “shadow” on an x-ray they did back in January, located under an old filling, has gotten bigger, and so the old filling needs to be replaced. This is fine with me, because the old filling is silver and shows through my tooth (it’s on the upper right, near the front of my mouth), and they’re going to replace it with a tooth-colored filling.

I’ll be going for that in about a month.

Anyway, I really like my dentist’s office, because they are very thorough and careful and double-check the medications you’re on, and ask after your health and all that, and the dental hygienist takes copious notes. But anyway, she asked if there was anything new going on with my teeth or my tongue, and I told her that we’re fostering kittens, and every time I pick up one of the kittens I bite my tongue so I won’t squoosh it to death, and she gave me a look and then made a note.

And then we discussed why I had foster kittens, and she went on to basically tell me that cats are “too independent” and have no personality.

She’s a dog person. You know how THEY are.

(Oh, I kid. I know many of you are ~~crazy-add weirdos~~ dog people. Nothing wrong with that! Some of my best friends are! Etc. etc.)

She’s a good dental hygienist, polishes my teeth up nice, always does a good job. You ever feel like punching the dental hygienist when they get the floss out, though? It’s nothing personal against her, but feeling that kind of pain always makes me feel like inflicting pain, you know?

Anyway, my teeth are looking good. The dentist came and looked ’em over, told me I had nice teeth (“‘ank ‘oo”, I said.), and then told me that Monday was a banner day for him. He had eight or nine adults come in who’d never had a single filling. He usually gets one or two in the course of a day, but never that many all at once.

The economy might be going to shit, but we’ve got us some nice teeth. At least those of us who can still afford to go to the dentist!

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Today is my first day back at the pet store since surgery. I’ve really missed it! So, a few kitten pics for you, then I’m outta here.

Kaylee the fearsome beast demonstrates that she can unhinge her jaw and swallow your head whole, if she so desires.

(More kitten pics over at Flickr.)

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Sugarbutt has found a soft place to snooze. It kinda makes me want a bed of padded envelopes for myself.

I tried to tell Fred that we could TOTALLY easily fit another five cats into the house if we give them all cat carriers to sleep in. We could stack ’em five high! They do it in Japan! He wouldn’t go for it, though. Hmph.

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Previously
2007: WHO AM I AND WHAT HAVE I DONE WITH THE REAL ROBYN?
2006: Playing with tigers.
2005: No entry.
2004: No entry.
2003: How to kick a sock’s ass. If it had an ass.
2002: “What’s your name?” he asked.
2001: No entry.
2000: Leave it to me to have sex dreams about the gay guy, huh?

7/9/08

The Great Bra Search – as I am certain you will be SO very pleased to hear – is OVER. I’ve located the perfect bra for me. Well, almost perfect. It ain’t the Olga Perfect Fit, but it’s as close to perfect as I think I’m going to get. I scoured the internet, I thought … Continue reading “7/9/08”

The Great Bra Search – as I am certain you will be SO very pleased to hear – is OVER. I’ve located the perfect bra for me. Well, almost perfect. It ain’t the Olga Perfect Fit, but it’s as close to perfect as I think I’m going to get.

I scoured the internet, I thought I found a source for the Olgas (thank you again, reader Linda!) and I ordered 7 of them and sat back and waited…. and received one. ONE. Because they were out of stock. And hadn’t bothered to tell me before they shipped ONE instead of the SEVEN I ordered. Thanks a LOT, Lady Grace. I found – and ordered – the Olga Perfect Bra in 36DD instead of DDD. Couldn’t hurt to try, right? No dice. I really do need that third D, it appears.

So, the search was on. I don’t know how many bras I ordered, received, and tried on, it was probably in the neighborhood of 15. Bras would come via UPS, FedEx or USPS, I’d have high hopes, only to have them dashed time and again.

On a side note, how much does it piss me off that the bra they recommend to replace the Olga Perfect Fit doesn’t come in size 36DDD, only goes up to a double-D? Grrrrr.

So, finally, last weekend, I got my latest order from FreshPair – two different Wacoal bras and a Goddess. I tried on the Goddess and didn’t care for it. I tried on one of the Wacoals and… eh. Maybe. Then I tried on the second Wacoal – the 85567, FYI – and it fit perfectly. I’m giving up the search, calling it good enough, and sticking with my one lone Olga Perfect Fit bra and will order a couple more of the Wacoals to get me through to January, when I will hopefully have my upper body plastic surgery and the bra-searching will begin anew. JOY.

I hate that the MOST expensive bra I ordered was the one that worked, but I suppose sometimes you’ve gotta pay more to get something that works. Ugh.

So, thank you all for your suggestions and recommendations and keep in mind that just ’cause I didn’t end up with the bra you suggested doesn’t mean I don’t LOVE YOU. It just means our boobs have different needs, is all.

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I think I’ve probably bitched about it in the past, but now that I’ve found a solution, let me bitch about it again. In the laundry room, we have two litter boxes. One is a top-entry litter box (this one, though I don’t leave the lid on) and the other is (was) a covered litter box (not this exact one, but similar). Some cats would use one litter box, some would use the other, and some would use both. I figured that the cats who used the covered litter box preferred not to have to jump so high to get in and use the litter box (Spanky and Miz Poo are getting toward the elderly side, after all. Also, Miz Poo has the portly thing going on as well.). BUT one or more of the cats who were using the covered litter box were peeing up the back of it, and because the covered litter box was only so high, the pee would go between the lid and the bottom of the litter box, and sometimes drip out the back.

Ugh.

I got around this problem by draping paper towels along the top of the bottom part of the litter box before I put the top part on (I apologize for the convolution of this paragraph), which stopped the urine from dripping out the back and sides of the litter box, but led to the funnest part of litter box scooping, which was removing the urine-soaked paper towels from between the upper and lower layers of the litter box before I could scoop, then replace the paper towels with clean paper towels.

Fun.

So I got it into my head that we could get a covered plastic container – like they sell for storage – that was approximately the height of the covered litter box and Fred could cut a hole in the front of the container so they could use it as a litter box, and they could pee up the side of the damn thing all they wanted, and it would just go back into the litter and not drip out the back. Only problem was, we couldn’t find a container as high as the covered litter box, and I didn’t want to go lower (I assumed the cats wouldn’t go for that), so when we were at Lowe’s one day Fred pointed out a container and suggested we give it a try, and I hemmed and hawed because it didn’t have a cover, and then I shrugged and figured “Fuck it”, because the worst that could happen is the little motherfuckers could pee on something else to register their displeasure and THEY ALREADY DO THAT, so we could give it a try.

Fred cut a hole in the container – a bucket, I guess you’d actually call it – and I dumped litter in it, and we waited to see what would happen. What happened is that the cats LOVE the damn thing. They’ve almost all gone to using it exclusively (though the other one gets occasional use). When Fred cut the hole in the front, he did it a little low, though, which meant that the cats were scattering litter all over the place, so this past weekend I stopped by Lowe’s and picked up another one, marked where the hole should go, and eureka! Perfect litter box!

The best part is that the buckets cost less than $6. Beat THAT price for a litter box!

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I got an email from the shelter manager yesterday. Apparently they’ve never had a kitten season like this before – cats and kittens are coming in at a very fast rate, the shelter and all the foster homes are filled up, and adoptions are down. There are currently 55 (!) kittens in foster homes, at the pet store, and at the shelter. The shelter manager has come up with a new plan that will helpfully spur adoptions along (basically giving people the option to spend time with the kittens at their foster home – something she’s left up to each foster parent, they’re not required to let strangers into their homes). I’m more than willing to let prospective parents come spend time with the kittens here, and while I hope it helps move adoptions along, I also kinda hope it doesn’t, you know?

Ah well. I don’t know how anyone could resist these little faces once they see them, anyway.

Truly, he is SUCH a Momma’s boy.

Zoe was sitting in her fish. Just as I snapped the second picture, Kaylee’s paws came from out of nowhere for the smackdown.

More kitten pics over at Flickr.

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Although he’s still wearing the collar, Sugarbutt is starting to act more like himself. Yesterday, he had a long stare-down with Joe Bob in the back yard, and then he chased him around the yard before sauntering over to the patio and settling down while looking fairly smug.

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Previously
2007: It was quite a way to start the day, lemmetellya.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: I am smooth like a Barbie doll, and as far as I’m concerned, everyone else in the world is lacking nipples and sexual organs.
2003: Although, my father used to say to me ‘Nando, don’t be a shnook. It’s not how you feel, it’s how you look! And roo look mahvelous!
2002: Because, my friends, I am a squeezer.
2001: Any excuse to hold up the Laziest Gal in the South title.
2000: No entry.